By Jonathan Pacheco
So much of the criticism and praise of Watchmen centers on the dilemma of adapting the acclaimed source material. Many deem the original graphic novel "unfilmable," others disagree. Theaters are overstuffed with the baggage that everyone brings to the film's viewing experience: Can it live up to my expectations? What will be different? Why did Snyder choose to ignore this element? After years of near-shame for having never read Watchmen, I'm now almost proud of the fact because I don't have to deal with the baggage. I can watch the film and just think of it as a film. My thoughts on the movie are by no means quintessential, but I feel that, in a way, I've watched a different film than half the people out there. That's the film I'll review.
Say what you will about Zack Snyder's almost perverted obsession with slow-motion (or the back-and-forth speed changes he always employs), but he cleverly uses it to his advantage in the film's opening sequence, a fight between an unknown criminal and the down-and-out hero, the Comedian (Jeffrey Dean Morgan, who looks so much like Robert Downey, Jr. that I heard little kids claim that Iron Man was in Watchmen). Instead of setting the glossy fight sequence to thumping techno beats, it's instead accompanied by the song "Unforgettable." Not only does the music inject the scene with irony, it also turns the fight into a dance—almost a waltz. The speed changes have a rhythm and a purpose. Every step, counter-step, shove, missed punch, flip, and slam is just part of this dance sequence.
Watchmen follows this up with another of the film's strongest scenes: a just-too-lengthy credit sequence that takes us through the modern history of this parallel universe, showing the Watchmen and their predecessors, the Minutemen, changing the course of events (and sometimes keeping them on track). The sequence is brilliant as a sort of wax museum of an alternate reality, even if it begins to feel a little Forrest Gump-ish as it plops fictitious characters next to historical figures. Many incarnations of Superman have him fighting wars against aliens and threats to humanity, but usually shying away from the petty inter-human conflicts that lead to our own wars. The Watchmen, however, seem to have no problem helping the U.S. government out of these sticky situations. In a spectacular sequence, we see the godlike Dr. Manhattan (Billy Crudup) towering over Vietnam, combusting humans as helicopters lead the charge and the Comedian blazes enemies down below. It's a change in history that makes total sense, given the nature of the situation and the willingness of many characters to compromise any morals (more on that later). This alternate reality also has Nixon as president in 1985, serving his fifth term. It's intriguing, but the caricature of him that the film rolls out is uninteresting and tonally inconsistent. Maybe I had to be alive when this guy was in office to really "get it."
The Watchmen, as we starts off, are no more, and the film touches on a little bit of a backstory of why. There's mention of a law to ban "masks," and in flashbacks we see rioters with signs that read, "Who Watches the Watchmen?" The words are there, but that sense of distrust when it comes to the city's superheroes was never quite palpable to me. This could be because the disbanding of the Watchmen happened too long ago, but regardless, I do wish the reasons were explored a little further. Could it be because of heroes like the Comedian, whose moral compass is so out of whack it may as well not exist? Is a "hero" who plugs the woman who claims to be pregnant with his child really a hero at all? Why do the Watchmen need watching?
Thing is, I'm okay with the film holding some of these things back. I don't need to know everything that happened. This is a retired bunch of superheroes, and I enjoyed the process of learning who they once were, little by little, bit by bit. Sometimes leaving me wanting more is a good thing.
The story is selective when it comes to telling character backstories, and it usually chooses the characters who, in the present, just aren't nearly as interesting as others. That's why we barely get a backstory on Rorschach; played by Jackie Earle Haley, he's the most interesting guy here. We do, however, get a lot of exposure to the past of Laurie Jupiter, aka Silk Spectre II (Malin Akerman), because in the present, as far as I can tell, she's pretty much just a beautiful woman who can fight really well in tights. That's not all that interesting, so Watchmen throws in the story of her alcoholic mother, the original Silk Spectre (Carla Gugino). There's also Dr. Manhattan, who, for a glowing, ever-nude, brilliant being, is pretty darn boring. I think I was less interested in his robotic musing and more interested in counting how many times Zack Snyder would willingly show the character's penis on screen (I lost count), which is why it was a bit of a relief to eventually learn how Manhattan came to be (the backstory is only slightly more interesting than the character himself).
Despite such shortcomings, I still found myself enraptured well into the film. The comic book action surprisingly doesn't overwhelm, partially because most of it is seen through flashbacks. I often felt as though I was watching a character piece similar to Don McKellar's Last Night (1998). That film observed characters counting down the handful of hours they have left until the end of the world. The choices they make in how they would like to spend those last moments prove to be riveting without using any sort of Armageddon spectacles as a crutch. Most of Watchmen plays similarly. With the Doomsday clock ticking closer to midnight, the Earth is faced with the seemingly imminent possibility of an all-out nuclear war. The difference between Watchmen and Last Night is that these characters must eventually choose whether to prevent or allow the catastrophic climactic event.
A film that seeks to be about characters will eventually buckle if those characters lack depth, and that's what happens with Watchmen. Dr. Manhattan's backstory comes so late in the film, and his character is so unappealingly dull that by the time he makes decisions significant to his character, the Watchmen, and the world, all impact is lost. I simply didn't care anymore, and the same can be said regarding a villain who just doesn't get enough exposure (speaking of which, just because a mastermind villain withholds minor details of his ultimate scheme, claiming that he's "not stupid enough to give the whole plan away," doesn't make it okay to have him conveniently reveal everything else in a long expository speech).
The film chooses to become more plot-driven in its final act, and ironically, that's when it loses steam. Instead of giving us more human developments to chew on, we have to stay with the film as it tries to unite characters who were branched off due to story obligations. Through most of the film, the visuals complement the story and the characters. Near the conclusion, when there's little mystery left (character or plot), the visuals unfortunately are the story and characters. Final sequences and fights that are supposed to be the most meaningful and invigorating feel flat, lifeless, and underwhelming.
Without knowing anything about the graphic novel, the film I saw was one with interest and potential, but also one that eventually gave in to genre expectations. Watchmen, despite containing moments and sequences that will linger with me for a very long time, is just not a complete film, and that frustrates me.
Jonathan Pacheco is a current web developer and future freelance writer. He blogs and reviews films at Bohemian Cinema.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Coming to it Cold: Watchmen
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16 comments:
Correction: Nixon was serving his fifth term in 1985. We see the TV screens showing his third win during the credits montage, putting that segment in late '76.
This review mirrors my own response to "Watchmen": fantastic beginning, hit-and-miss characters, enough to keep me watching, even mesmerized for much of its running time. But I was exhausted by the film's final stretch, which I didn't care about and can't remember. Still, I'd watch the film again in a heartbeat.
Quite correct, Dan. Just amended in the review. Thanks.
This isn't meant to sound hostile, but maybe if you spent more time listening to what Dr.Manhattan is saying and less time paying attention to his genitalia, he wouldn't have bored you so. I suppose his lack of affect could be alienating to the uninitiated, but his scenes are among the few where movie and comic work in near-perfect symbiosis, perhaps because, as Walter Chaw's review suggested, Snyder's direction is similarly chilly.
"(speaking of which, just because a mastermind villain withholds minor details of his ultimate scheme, claiming that he's "not stupid enough to give the whole plan away," doesn't make it okay to have him conveniently reveal everything else in a long expository speech)"
Actually, he never promises to not give his plan away--he promises to not tell them before he's actually accomplished it. Afterwards, it's necessary to tell them what he did, both to inflate his own ego and, more importantly, so that they understand the stakes and won't reveal the plan to outsiders. I agree that the speech was a little long, but it's there for a very good reason. The kind of thing you're complaining about generally happens because it's the only way the hero can get the information he needs to stop the villain--this is a total subversion of that scenario.
Also:
"Final sequences and fights that are supposed to be the most meaningful and invigorating feel flat, lifeless, and underwhelming."
The fights, at least, are supposed to be. The act at the end has moved the story and the world past where normal superheroics are useful. At that point, they can no longer solve the problem by beating people up; so the fights are robbed of their excitement in that direction.
Despite the selling for and complaints against this movie and the comic in the blog comment pages, I finally saw it and completely loved it, and hope to see it again. The complaints don't always touch upon what really upsets viewers. The rape scene. Having a hero rape another hero. And a few other politics of the comic that carried over to the movie. No one, I have found, is seriously upset about the naked blue guy or the violence. The nude scenes are very few and far between. The sex scene is not distasteful or bad. The violence is Tarantino level. The complaints seemed to be coming from someplace far outside of America, or Britain or wherever it's supposed to be, who apparently didn't want this movie made, but I could have that completely wrong.
maybe if you spent more time listening to what Dr.Manhattan is saying and less time paying attention to his genitalia, he wouldn't have bored you so.
To put it less jerkily:
Manhattan is basically God minus one; if you're bored by him then it's worth asking why. Personally I thought Crudup was maybe the best thing about the film. His big decision doesn't play quite believably onscreen, but then that was Moore's problem as well; I didn't buy that scene in the comic either.
Wally: I think the problem with that scene in the movie is more the fact that the revelation that convinces Manhattan of humanity's worth is far less elegantly set up than it is in the comic. And it doesn't help matters that Malin Akerman is almost completely unable to shoulder the weight placed on her character there (and elsewhere).
But despite all Snyder's sins, the worst thing about it, the thing that makes the last 30 minutes so dry and unsatisfying, is something that he didn't have much control over--the loss of the devastating images that open the final chapter. After all the atrocities he was allowed to revel in, he wasn't allowed to give us the one that really counted.
Keith, if you've seen the film, I'd be interested what you thought of it.
I must admit that I was not at all impressed.
Dan, that makes more sense. Totally my miss. I wondered why there was such a gap between Nixon's second and third terms!
theoldboy, my point is that Dr. Manhattan WAS so boring (I heard every word he said, my friend), that his genitalia became slightly more interesting than the character himself. You mention that to the "uninitiated" he can be alienating. That's my big question with Watchmen: does it work for the initiated and uninitiated alike? From what you're saying, it doesn't always. The thing I don't know is if Snyder tried to make it work for both parties or if he just tried to pander to fans of the comic. Regardless, as someone who never read the original, I'm not sure if it's fair to occasionally ignore this side of the audience.
Reth, I agree, the revealing speeches happen often, but I have to believe that there's a better way of getting that information across. Watchmen isn't the only guilty party, I realize that. Too many films resort to this. I don't know if Watchmen needed to, at least not in such a fashion. I can see the reasoning behind revealing the plan (to help the others understand, since the villain believes he's doing something good), but it cheapens it to have the long expository speech, conveniently revealing what the heroes need to know, then have him say, "Wait, wait, I'm not dumb enough to reveal that!"
Also, I don't know if I buy that the fights at the end are supposed to be flat. I personally didn't recognize any evidence that would indicate that that was a purposeful, conscious decision. I may have to revisit that.
Wally, it's funny you mention "God minus one" because I found myself wondering if the character (or characters) would have been more interesting as god-like. The first trailer I saw of the film really seemed to push this. There was a sense of awe present that I didn't find in most of the film (except the Vietnam sequence). Now, I know that part of the point of the story is that they're NOT gods, and Dr. Manhattan even goes so far as to point that out (emphasizing the limitations of his abilities).
As I mentioned, Dr. Manhattan's backstory came much later in the film, and I think that hurts him (Rorschach's came late as well, but I already found him fascinating enough). At first glance, a glowing, powerful blue dude looks like an interesting character, but since the transformation seems to have robbed him of most of his humanity, he's essentially a robot. That's fine and all, but he's supposed to be a pivotal character, as far as I can tell. By waiting so long to show his former human side, I think the film gave me too much time to become bored with him as a main character. Laurie is frustrated with her relationship with him, but I wonder why she's in love with a robot to begin with. Again, by the time we learn about his past, I was pretty much done caring about him. (I'm also trying to pinpoint why I find other robotic characters more interesting, such as HAL)
You also bring up another interesting issue involving adaptations. Many times when someone complains about a scene, development, or character, people will come back with, "That's how it was written originally." I think that it's the job of the writer and director of the film to work through those problems, no? If Moore's material had some flaws, Snyder needs to fix them instead of directly translating them to the big screen. Sometimes there are elements that work in the original that don't work on screen. Again, I think it should be the filmmaker's job to recognize that and adjust.
@Cde.: I'm very much in your corner. The further I get from it, the more forgettable it seems to me, save for a few bright spots, already mentioned in most reviews. Not much to say beyond that.
"Wait, wait, I'm not dumb enough to reveal that!"
Actually, you're still misunderstanding that scene, all though that may very well be the movie's fault. Ozymandias isn't holding back any super-secret information about his plan. He lays out every detail, because he wants them to know how awesome he is.
The bit that subverts the cliche is that, and what that scene is at least intended to get across, is that he's smart enough to wait to reveal his plan until after he's already won. It's not "I'd never tell you that," it's "I wouldn't tell you that if you had any way to stop me. I did it 35 minutes ago."
This is pretty much the quintessential line of the comic. If the movie messed it up, that's a huge hole in the film.
I keep hoping that one of the True Faithful will explain how Ozymandias' fantastic plan was going to work. If Manhattan knows 'he can't change human nature' then he knows the detente between US and USSR will last about a week. Rather than mass and personal murder (leading to an illusionary peace based an illusion) couldn't they have figured out a way to simply defuse nuclear weapons?
Here, too, it may be something lost in the translation. Are the standards or expectations different for comics versus film?
Nor did I understand how Manhattan could have a revelation that Laurie was a miracle and then turn around and vaporize Rorschach?
I must admit I found Ms Akerman underwhelming, so I didn't see what Manhattan saw in her. I wanted see more of Silhouette!
So, Mr Pacheco, to chime in with a vote, I had read the comic, but only perfunctorily, so I consider myself 'uninitiated.' While not unappreciative of some of the efforts (Morgan and Haley were terrific) I was still left puzzled and largely unmoved. I remember hearing others saying the film distancing or opaque. I thought of that as we watched Dan and Laurie's dinner scene through the restaurant window. I wanted to be inside with the characters, but was being kept outside.
Apopheniac, I see what you're saying. There definitely is a difference. Perhaps I'm remembering things that weren't actually said. My issue is with the fact that he uses a long, typical speech to reveal everything, nevermind if any information is withheld or not. Again, I realize that's kind of the point -- that he wants to reveal how brilliant his plan is -- but it still seems to me like it's conveniently using the old trick. I'd have to see the scene again to clarify my thoughts on it.
Corvus, the biggest flaw with the film for me was that I was not moved when it seemed I was supposed to be. I found most of it very interesting, but when stuff starts going down, that's when I felt distanced.
Again, I realize that's kind of the point -- that he wants to reveal how brilliant his plan is -- but it still seems to me like it's conveniently using the old trick.
Actually, that's part of the point too. After all, at base level, Watchmen is trying to deconstruct superhero stories. The villain giving a big melodramatic summation of his master plan is part of what is being deconstructed.
That means you have to subvert the cliche ("I did it 35 minutes ago.") but it also means you need to have it in there to subvert in the first place.
That said, I'm entirely capable of believing it doesn't work in the movie, as a movie. I am largely unable to experience the movie except through the lens of the book, because I'm such a fan of the latter.
If Snyder is indeed trying to translate Moore's deconstruction, then I'd say he largely fails. Without knowing the source material, as a film, Watchmen seems to pursue that angle a little bit with the story of The Comedian, and then perhaps with the speech at the end that you're referring to, and that's about it. I just don't feel that thread consciously throughout the film. I get the feeling that Snyder just adapted what he wanted, and stumbled across the theme part of the time (let's face it, The Comedian's story IS that theme).
There's another inherent problem with this idea, when it comes to adapting the source material. As I understand it, the original comic broke the mold and sort of created a new mold -- intentionally or not -- in the process. When it was released in the '80s, the deconstruction angle was fresh. A villain smart enough to reveal his plan 35 minutes after the plan was successfully executed was fresh. But since the '80s, we've seen a lot of superhero and action movies whose stories are heavily influenced by what Moore did with Watchmen. When I see this film, I don't see it as a mold-breaker because I've been seeing other movies use those same tricks, so to speak. That presents one of the conundrums in the adaptation process.
At the same time, as I mentioned before, some things that work on the comic book page just don't work on the silver screen. Moore's writing was paced for several issues over several months; Hayter and Snyder have to put that into 2 or 3 hours. If they ARE pursuing the deconstruction angle, the "knowing evocations of comics past" while reworking the current comic book/superhero formula, I think they need an altered approach to get it across on film, because I really didn't see much of it consciously going on. If they AREN'T pursuing it, then the instances where it does seem to pop up have the potential to feel out of place, or just confusing (as the expository speech is for me).
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